


trembling

by VerdantMoth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:13:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: His whole life, Steve’s mentally drafted his goodbyes. He’d always known, always, that everyone he met would outlive him. But here he is, physically 26 and holding another set of trembling hands.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 19





	trembling

His whole life, Steve’s mentally drafted his goodbyes. He’d always known, always, that everyone he met would outlive him. But here he is, physically 26 and holding another set of trembling hands.

“You’re okay, Buck, you’re fine.”

Bucky looks up at him and he’s smiling, the punk.

But his eyes are as pale as the ice he’s caught in. 

“You’re fine, Bucky. You’ll see. They’re up there. They’re searching.”

Steve doesn’t know if he’s lying. He doesn’t know anything beyond watching Bucky falling, beyond diving after him in one ill advised leap. 

He’s never once regretted any of his choices, and he doesn’t quite regret this one either. Even as his breath puffs out before him. 

It’s cold though, so cold he’s feeling it. He hasn’t felt anything close to cold since he stepped out of Howard Stark’s coffin of change. 

It’s a sharp thing, biting. Makes his skin feel tight and brittle.

Bucky’s trembling beneath him, hands vibrating so quick it’s making Steve’s teeth rattle. There’s a growing blanket of red snow beneath them, and night is falling quietly. 

“Hey,” Steve says desperately. “Hey, Bucky, tell me again about the place of Maple Street?”

Bucky’s mouth moves, a strange open and close rhythm that makes Steve think of the fair back home. The freaky animatronic creatures Bucky liked so much. 

“I’ll tell you instead. It’s a quaint little two-story right? Something older than all the rest of Brooklyn, and built outta stone carried in from the sea. Needs a new roof.” 

Steve pushes the hair off Bucky’s brow, telling himself the sweat is a  _ good _ thing. Means Bucky ain’t too cold. “Steps up the front don’t go too well, ‘cause the middle one has rot all through it.”

He fingers the shoulder of Bucky’s uniform and tries to ignore the mangled flesh he can see there. Steve can practically see the skin trying to stitch itself closed. He ain’t too smart, not about this stuff, but he ain’t too sure that’s normal either. 

“We’re gonna paint the door something funny and bright. Maybe a good ole country red. We’ll plant flowers in the windowsills and tomatoes in the back.” Steve isn’t sure anymore, which of them is shaking harder. “I know you say I can’t grow anything for shit, but you watch, Buck. Ima get that blue ribbon from Mildred this time. Just you watch.”

He’s tired. Or maybe night has just fallen and that’s why it’s dark. And he’s so cold, but somehow Bucky’s colder against his chest. 

“They’ll rescue us, Bucky. It’ll be a story for the books.”

Steve thinks he sees something about them; the flicker of a lamp, or maybe the light of a fire. 

He thinks he hears something; the desperate calls of their names, the echoes of Bucky’s screams.

He’s cold, and he’s tired, and Bucky’s here in his arms. “You’ve stopped shivering darkin’. I think that’s a good thing, maybe.”

The red blanket has stopped spreading. “I’m going to close my eyes now, okay love? Just for a moment. You’ll wake me when they come for us, right?”

Thing is, Steve’s been saying goodbye his whole life. But only because he thought he was leaving first. 

It’s odd then, the way he dreams. Foreign hands digging, pulling something from his arms. Dragging him to something too warm. He said his goodbyes, but something whispers in his ears, his nightmares,  _ “Hey, punk, wake up.” _


End file.
